As Alex
escorted Jenny out of Los Angeles International Airport into bright sunshine,
her spirits lifted. They'd left Chicago under leaden January skies and several
feet snow piled along the curbs. Here in sunny California, they stood under
a fat and powerful sun.

"Considering the
weather we left in Chicago," Jenny said, "it's no wonder there's a constant
exodus to the west coast."

"Nothing seems
to halt it," Alex said. "Not the faltering economy, not the threat of earthquakes
or mudslides or floods or crime. Ah, there's a cab. Follow
me."

Before she got
into the cab, Jenny glanced over her shoulder. A chill chased down her spine.
The stalker was getting in a cab behind them.

Alex leaned toward
the driver. "Marriott Hotel, Woodland Hills."

Jenny released
a jagged breath, settled into her seat and shrank into fearful thoughts.
Was Alex Kendall following her or was it the husky stranger? She was no longer
sure.

"Ever been to
L.A.?" Alex asked.

Jenny shook her
head. "I've always wanted to visit. I've heard so much about the glitz and
glamour of the city."

"Yes, it does
seem glamorous on the surface."

And yet as the
cab rocked onto the traffic laden freeways, Jenny wondered who had dubbed
it glamorous. Thickets of enormous buildings stood tall against the smoggy
sky. To her it looked like some ill-conceived city of steel. Not that downtown
Chicago was paradise. There, crowds jostled, and maniacal traffic whirled
madly around the

-66-

loop. Nevertheless Chicago was home and Lake
Michigan a comfortingand familiar polestar.

California, and
in particular, Los Angeles, held certain fascination for her, as it did for
many Midwesterners. Now as the cab sped along, a grey pall hiding the mountains
from full view, this city seemed far from her fantasies. Where was the ocean
with its rolling waves? Where were the manicured, lawns of celebrity's homes?
Where was the exciting glamour of Hollywood?

The driver
accelerated the cab onto the San Diego Freewayto the Ventura
Freeway and turned north at the Topanga Canyon offramp. The Marriott Hotel,
nestled in the heart of San Fernando Valley, dominated an entire block, standing
like a sentinel over the West Valley. Tooling the taxi into the circular
drive, the driver hopped from the cab, and unloaded their
suitcases.

Alex fished in
his wallet to pay the driver and instructed the valet to carry their two
suitcases to the registration desk.

Jenny brushed
past him and hurried into the plush hotel lobby toward the registration desk.
This persistent man was using some kind of superior authority again. Now,
she must call her father's room and reserve a room for
herself.

How she missed
him. Missed seeing him at his computer typing furiously, missed him deep
in thought, research books piled high as he spun out his latest tale. Knowing
what she did now, it was no wonder that during his last year of freedom,
his blue eyes had become shallow and restless, losing much of their former
brilliance. She hoped that these past months away from criminals had restored
some of his vitality.

Jenny stood in
line at the registration counter. Three professional looking young women
and one well-dressed young man pounded away

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at computer keyboards, slid flat, square
keys into little paper pockets and then turned to the waiting customers.
Jenny took a deep breath, trying patiently to await her
turn.

She froze. Meeting
this man hadn't been a coincidence after all. He's following me, she thought,
or he's been sent to keep an eye on me.

He took her arm.
"Let's sit in the side lobby."

"But..." Puzzled,
she looked back at the counter. Alex led her to a loveseat surrounded by
a profusion of green foliage.

Jenny bit her
lip as she perched on the edge of the cushion and pulled her briefcase onto
her lap. "Who are you? What's going on?"

Alex spoke softly.
"Agent Tim O'Reilly is my boss. Understand? No, don't get up. Listen to me.
He had your phone tapped and he knows your father called you. If he had your
phone bugged, then it's a safe bet the Berkowitz mob did,
too."

Jenny's pulse
quickened. "Who are you?"

"Special FBI Agent
Alex Kendall. I won't show you my badge now, but I will later. Sit still
and smile, we may be watched."

Jenny was momentarily
stunned. "The husky stranger? You know about him? He is following me, isn't
he?"

Alex leaned close,
took her hand, and gently massaged her cold fingers. "That's why I'm here.
You must smile and pretend we're interested in each other. Stop looking around,
look at me."

Jenny's face froze.
She withdrew her hand and stared at him. How dare this... this interloper
pretend to have casually met her, and now intrude on her meeting with her
father? Her fury extended to Agent O'Reilly. He'd had her phone tapped, had
he? Wasn't that an invasion of privacy? O'Reilly probably assumed that Alex
Kendall's good looks, smooth manner and professional demeanor might weaken
her defense,

-68-

make her more vulnerable. If he only knew
that she wanted nothing except to see her father. Yet, she mentally paused
and suppressed her anger. Alex was her only keys. She turned her full attention
to him.

As she watched
Alex walk to the Registration Counter and hand the young man his card, Jenny
clutched her briefcase close. She resisted an urge to stand and look over
the hotel's patrons. Where was the husky stranger? Was he behind her, or
next to her? Was he suspicious of Alex Kendall?

Her exhilaration
over seeing her father faded. Fear knocked and reality walked in. Alex was
right. If O'Reilly had bugged her phone, then surely a member of the Berkowitz
mob had done likewise. And if so they'd heard their conversation and knew
her father's assumed name. More important, what if they had already gotten
to her father?

Within ten minutes,
Alex strode toward her, held out his hand and lifted her to her feet. "Let's
get some coffee," he said, walking with her to a small dining area at the
rear of the hotel.

After they were
seated, Alex leaned close to Jenny. "Now, don't panic."

Alex shook his
head. "I talked to our Marshall in Santa Rosa. He said O'Reilly became
apprehensive about your dad landing at LAX. He changed their original flight
plans and diverted him to the Burbank airport. I called the airline. The
plane landed an hour ago."

"Perhaps the traffic
was heavy, or he had a hard time finding a cab or..."

"Perhaps," Alex
nodded. He'd briefly harbored the same thought. More realistically, a man
had been placed a man at both airports.

-69-

Probably one or more of Gavota's men had
met Lansing at the Burbank Airport and spirited him off to heaven knew
where.

"You don't recognize
me, eh, Kendall? Does the name Lucas Darke mean anything to you? I see it
does. You and O'Reilly sent me to prison a few years back. But time has a
way of settling the score." He smiled as if they were engaging in an amicable
conversation. "Now, it's my turn."